Reaching for the Unreachable
by TimeTurning
Summary: Draco Malfoy has fallen - hard. For the one girl in Hogwarts that he was least expecting. And as he throws caution to the winds and pursues the most unlikely of friendships, secrets are revealed, expectations are ignored, and Draco changes for good.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My heart was pounding with anticipation throughout the entire day. All I could think about was getting back up to my dormitory to work on my hair and make myself look at least passable for my Triwizard Champion. And once I started thinking about that, I started thinking about how incredibly impossible it was that he had even asked me to go to the Yule Ball in the first place, which got me thinking about why he would have even considered asking someone like me, and then everything just snowballed and before I knew it, my eyes were unfocused and Professor Flitwick had to say my name several times before I was even able to process what he was asking. Answering correctly was completely out of the question. By the time dinner came around, I was completely out of it. I ended up shoveling my lunch down so quickly I almost choked and speeding up to my dormitory two hours earlier than I needed to in order to get ready.

Thankfully, my room was empty. But I knew that within the next half hour at least, Lavender and Parvati would rush in to start their own beautifying process for Seamus and Harry. I thought I would get a head start, and I pulled from my dresser next to my four poster bed the bottle of "Mama Stella's Magical Hair Remedy" potion that I had ordered from Hogsmede and the black dry cleaning bag that my mother had sent me from the muggle village back home. It was lucky, really, that she had convinced me to go dress shopping this summer when we saw the request for dress robes on my letter from Hogwarts. I was planning on just getting by with a dark blue pair of robes just like the ones for school, but of course my mother went above and beyond. She took me to every single boutique and high class shop within a 100-mile radius in a search for the "perfect dress." Since the Yule Ball hadn't been announced at the time, of course we had no idea what this dress was supposed to be for, but she wasted no time in getting me to struggle my way into more than ten several-hundred dollar dresses per store. I got the distant feeling that this was her way of overcompensating for the fact that her daughter that turned out to be a witch wasn't going to be going to a Prom. The result of all of that nonsense, however, was a beautiful periwinkle blue dress that I thought would have been a bit much for going all alone when she first sent it to me. Once Viktor asked me to accompany him to the dance, though, I knew my overzealous mother was right in going a little overboard. It was exactly what I needed to look like I belonged with a famous Quidditch player.

I unzipped the bag and started to apply the Hair Remedy as Parvati and Lavender walked in, giggling furiously. They glimpsed at me and Lavender turned back to Parvati, whispering something I couldn't hear but knew it was about me. Nonetheless, I kept my head high as I faced the mirror and poured the entire bottle into my hair.

Three hours later, I was walking towards the Library, my school robe wrapped around me. Viktor had said that the Library would be the best place to meet, mostly because of the fact that this was where he and I met, and where he asked me to go to the dance with him. As I approached the corridor leading towards the Library, I heard muffled footsteps behind me and I turned around. "You look beautivul."

I could feel my cheeks turning bright pink as I looked down at my feet and smiled nervously. "Thanks, Viktor," I mumbled, and I turned my head to look behind me for more students. There weren't any.

"Are you ready to go down to the ball, Hermy-own?" At this, my cheeks went from bright pink to downright red. As much as I loved Victor's accent, I always got a tad frustrated when he pronounced my name wrong. At a moment like this, though, I just got even more embarrassed. I giggled and shifted my weight onto my other foot awkwardly as I unwound my crossed arms and took a step forward towards him. He held out his elbow for me, and we set off for the Great Hall.

_I can't believe I am stuck with this insufferable twit, she disgusts me in her frilly and repulsive pink costume, _I thought, as Pansy clutched my arm with viselike intensity. Her nails stabbed my skin and she was squealing at 10 second intervals, consequence of various unimportant and shallow things that apparently excited her small and incapable brain. Crabbe and Goyle were walking behind us; clad in hideous green dress robes that fit them both like a very thin skin for one of the sausages they were so partial to every morning. I ambled on, attempting to ignore the pain in my arm and to put on a convincing charade that would not let slip my disappointment of the fact that Parkinson was the only girl that I even had a chance with tonight. The way I was strutting, with my chin held high, you would think that the miserable slob seizing my upper arm was the hottest thing since Ferrah Fawcet.

Pansy was still squealing and jumping obnoxiously at every decoration and ball attendee as we walked past the Saint Potter and Weaselby and their so-called dates. I would never admit to my suspicion and frankly, envy, when it came to how in the hell those two ghouls managed to get the two most attractive girls in our year. But I tried not to dwell on the unpleasantness of that.

I steered Parkinson and the friends-acting-like-bodyguards to a table almost full with fellow Slytherins and plopped into a chair, finally freeing my arm of Pansy's firm grip. "God this place looks like a blizzard hit it. That miserable oaf Hagid has overdone it with the pitiful decorations." I said this to no one in particular, but as usual all the people surrounding me were hanging on to every word. Parkinson's smile drooped and she looked let down, as if she was hoping I would tell her how beautiful I thought the room was. _Pathetic,_ I thought. Wasn't the thing she worshiped most about me my negative and insulting demeanor? When was she ever going to stop dreaming that I would be anything but cruel and distasteful towards her? The woman was deluding herself into thinking she could "change" me, as so many other foul girls had before. She'd learn eventually though, that no girl could ever pray to turn me into some kind of weak-minded fool that goes head over heels for someone. What would my father think of me?

Just as I was thinking this, and smirking about the delusions all those women had had about me and my outlook on life, something happened to wipe the smirk off my face.

Hermione Granger walked past, arm in arm with a man that I never thought would stoop so low to ask a filthy mudblood to the Yule Ball. What was he thinking? What kind of publicity was he looking for? But these questions seemed to fade and then completely evaporate from my train of thought as I took a look at Granger. She was absolutely stunning.

Granger's hair was pulled back into an elegant twist in the back of her head, it was no longer shriveled up curls or tangled or unattractive in any way. Her flawless skin was practically glowing as she beamed towards the audience in hers and Viktor's slow progression to the dance floor with the other champions. She was wearing a beautiful set of dress robes fit for royalty, and her bare arms and legs were, I hated to admit it even to myself, _enticing._ The material of Granger's dress robes floated, it seemed almost weightless as it moved around her, entwining her body gracefully. She even walked differently, held herself higher. She wasn't hunched over with her book bag tonight; she was striding down the aisle with purpose, holding onto Krum's arm lightly. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she wiggled her shoulders a little, attempting to cover some of her skin. The feeble movement of her shoulders caused my eyes to linger towards her exposed cleavage and for the first time in my life, I found myself swallowing nervously, fidgeting in my seat, finding myself completely won over by Hermione Granger.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As the night went on, my conversations with Viktor were becoming less and less awkward. I finally got him to (at least attempt to) pronounce my name correctly, and we had been dancing for a very long time when I admitted to needing a break. Viktor promised to go get drinks as I found an empty chair next to Harry, Ron, and Padma.

"It's hot, isn't it?" I said, looking at Harry as my bare hand fanned my pink face. "Viktor's just gone to get us some drinks."

"Viktor?" Ron said, completely surprising me with a tone of complete disrespect and, I thought, jealousy. "Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"

I simply looked at Ron; astounded that he would be so rude to someone he had never had a two-word conversation with. "What's up with you?" I asked. "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you." Ron said.

I looked at Harry, completely stumped. Where was this coming from? Harry simply shrugged, saying nothing, which was typical, so I said "Ron, what -?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" he spit. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You – you're – _fraternizing with the enemy,_ that's what you're doing!"

I was utterly shocked. And insulted. And, and, and just plain upset that my best friend couldn't be excited about who I had gotten a date with. And mad! Mad that he had to be so dimwitted that he would insult someone he didn't even know just because I had gone to a dance with him.

"Don't be so stupid! The enemy? Honestly! Who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

And on it went. Ron continued insulting Viktor, accusing me of siding with him over Harry, who was of course, completely ridiculous and ignored my attempts at defending myself with logic. As was typical of Ron, he wouldn't listen to sense, and continued to argue simply to argue. The discussion ended when Ron called him "Vicky" again, and I stomped off across the dance floor. I found Viktor after a fashion; he said he had asked Ron and Harry if they had seen me. But we continued dancing the entire night. Towards the end, he walked me to a corridor near the Gryffindor common room.

"Thank you, Herm-own-ninny, for coming vith me to this ball of yours. I had a very fun time, I am thinking."

I blushed. "Thank you for asking me, Viktor. I'm so glad I came!"

I smiled up at him. Throughout the night, I had become less embarrassed by looking at him in the eyes, and now was able to do it while smiling, without blushing or shaking. I glanced at his lips, wondering if I would get the kiss I had been waiting for all night.

"I vill see you tomorrow, in the library, Herm-own-ninny?" he asked, taking a small step closer to me. My neck ached as I stretched it upwards in order to keep my eyes on Viktor's as I took a small step closer as well. I had just finished saying, "I wouldn't miss it for the world," when his lips touched mine softly.

I had never been kissed before, but I had read about it in the romance novels of my mothers. I knew what to do, for the most part, and I had known what to expect. I knew that when Viktor leaned back and smiled, that didn't mean the end of the kiss. I knew that at that point, getting on my tiptoes and reaching around his neck to pull his face down closer to mine was not unexpected completely.

This time, I kissed him. And I didn't let it be as fast as Viktor's first kiss had been. I pressed into his lips and opened my mouth slightly as his hands wrapped hesitantly around my waist. I pulled back to tilt my head the other way and kissed him again, our noses brushing slightly and my fingers nervously brushed his hair back. I knew what to do here, but I had always thought that kissing was supposed to be more enjoyable. This was just me doing what I was supposed to do, nothing more. I didn't feel a jolt of electricity through my heart and head or butterflies in my stomach like my trusty books had taught me you would feel during your first kiss, and probably all the ones after. But maybe they were just over exaggerating.

I pulled back and smiled at Viktor and said, "I'll see you tomorrow!" before turning on my heel and disappearing into the corridor, climbing the stairs to reach the Fat Lady.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I was still fuming about my reaction to Granger's, well, for lack of a better word, beauty, as I wandered the corridors after the Yule Ball. The Weird Sisters had finished playing over two hours ago, and Pansy had squealed my eardrums numb after I had given her a very reluctant kiss on the cheek at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, but I hadn't followed her inside. Instead, I decided to roam the castle and walk off my indistinguishable and very sudden feelings towards a girl I had long since nursed a grudge towards. I was just coming to the conclusion that it was lust, simply lust, that was getting to me now. It was all that bare skin that got me going, that's all, when I passed by a painting with an incredibly fat woman sleeping on it, hanging open into the wall. Confused, I walked around the painting and discovered that it was in fact, a door, that led into what looked like a very cozy room with warm hues and red and gold couches. _The Gryffindor common room, duh._ I thought to myself, just as I recognized two people, standing ten feet away from each other, red in the face, screaming at the top of their lungs.

"How could you even say something like that, Ron? I would've dressed like this for anybody that asked me, and I wanted to go with Viktor because I like him! Not because I'm trying to help him beat Harry! He's my best friend, I would never —"

"I just don't like it, Hermione! Like I said, he's the enemy! He only wanted to go with you to, to pick your brains for ideas on how to work on that egg or something! You know how thick those sporty guys can be he's just using you!"

"Ron! This isn't about that it's—"

"Of course that's what it's about, Hermione! You shouldn't have gone with him."

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?"

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

There was a bang and stomping. I cleared my head in time to jump out of the way and out of sight as I heard Hermione – or, I mean, Granger – stomp out of the common room and down the hall. I heard Weasley mumbling something I couldn't understand, and the portrait door swung closed. From behind the tapestry I hid in, I saw Granger walk two steps, stop, lean over to hold on to the wall, and take off each of her strappy silver heels, one by one. She threw them to the side and reached up to take her hair down from the twist that had partly fallen out, take out the pins, and let it down. Her back was to me as she did this, and then walked gingerly, barefooted, down the corridor. Not thinking, I followed.

I had walked for about 30 minutes when I finally stopped. I crouched down in the middle of a corridor, next to a locked classroom and about three yards from the boy's bathroom, and put my arms around my knees, leaned into the wall, and started to cry. Barefoot, hair a complete mess, makeup running, body weak from walking around for so long and throat aching from yelling so much, I just couldn't have taken it any longer. How could Ron have done this? If he had just asked me before Viktor had done all of this confusion and anger and needless arguments with him could have been avoided completely! I would have said yes, of course I would have! He's my best friend, and frankly, he was becoming more and more attractive in my mind since he protected me at the Quidditch World Cup, I probably would have kissed him just like I kissed Victor not an hour ago, and I would've enjoyed it too! But he had to completely and totally ruin everything by not being courageous enough or—

Footsteps. Great, what a wonderful end to a wonderful night, Filch is going to find me here and I'm going to be put in detention and there go my hopes to become prefect next year. Wait, that wasn't Filch…

"You know, I always thought Weaselby was going to be the one to ask you to this ball, and I was confused when he was with Patil, but now everything makes sense! He's gutless. But we've always known that."

I knew that voice. But it couldn't be—wouldn't be—

"M—M—Malfoy?" I stuttered.

"Don't act so surprised, Granger, your sobs are loud enough for the entire castle to hear."

I gasped. It was Malfoy! And he was crouching down next to me, close to me. Sitting not a foot away from where I was curled up on the ground.

"Did you—did you follow me?" I couldn't pretend not to be shocked. Of all the people to be here, now, did it have to be him? But my initial thought was, why?

"Yeah, I couldn't help but wonder where you were going after that little lover's quarrel. Thought it would be something juicy, but I have to admit, you disappointed me, Granger. I expected some kind of revenge potion at the very least, maybe you were going to run off to Krum."

"You—you heard that? The whole thing?" Great. Just what I needed. Malfoy making fun of Ron and me for our, what did he just call it? A lover's quarrel?

"Yeah, it was hard not to. Like I said before, you two aren't exactly the quietest students here. Could've started an avalanche. Wouldn't've been surprised." I was speechless. Why did Malfoy seem so interested in what was going on in my love life? Why wasn't he calling me "Mudblood" or insulting me at all? But most importantly, why was he here? Comforting me? Well, it counts as comforting, seeing as it's coming from Malfoy.

When I didn't answer, Malfoy continued. "Anyway, Granger, I only showed myself just now because I want you to know that you're right. Weaselby's crazy for you and he was thick for not asking you and then even more thick for yelling at you when you went with someone with his head on straight. It's got everything to do with jealousy, nothing to do with 'betrayal'. Take it from a guy's point of view. We know these kinds of things."

Again, I couldn't speak. Now he was complimenting me? And that entire monologue of his didn't have one insult in it!

"Malfoy, why are you talking to me?"

"Look, Granger. I know that you're upset. You aren't exactly one to succumb to tears. That, and you look absolutely gorgeous tonight. I can't stand to see you look so miserable in that dress. Also, if you must know, when I saw you tonight, something broke inside me. I don't know how it happened but all of a sudden, I felt bad for being so mean to you all the time, because unlike your dimwitted friends Potty and Weasel, you've never done anything to me. Don't ask where this is coming from because even I don't have an answer for you. I guess I just realized how thick and inconsiderate I've been. Not that I'm apologizing! I just, I regret my attitude. For the past 4 years."

I was dumbfounded. Draco Malfoy just called me gorgeous. And he said that he felt bad for how he'd been treating me. And… was I dreaming?

He went on, "Granger, don't think this is about you, okay? That nutter Weasley is a selfish bastard with no balls, which doesn't exactly mix well. He likes you and doesn't know how to tell you, which makes him despicable and, frankly, should make you run away and hide from him forever. But to each his own."

Still, not a word could come out of my mouth. My face must've looked a little strange and possibly worrying because Malfoy started talking after a few seconds of my gaping at him.

"And don't tell anyone I'm saying this to you because it would totally ruin my reputation as a badass Malfoy."

At this, I finally was able to get a word in. "Malfoy, I'm not going to tell anyone. They wouldn't believe me if I told them."

"That's a good point, Granger." He looked… sad. Determined and honest, for the first time in his life, but sad. Or something like it. It was just, definitely an emotion I had never seen on Draco Malfoy's face. I had never seen anything other than unexplainable pride or that disgusting sneer that always was there.

"Malfoy, I…"

He looked at me expectantly.

"Thank you." This last phrase came out strangled, and quite understandably. I never imagined I would be thanking Malfoy. Not in all my life.

The next thing I knew, though, Malfoy was standing up and walking down the corridor, head shaking. As if he were disappointed in something.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

As soon as the sun came up the next morning, I was taking my Nimbus Two Thousand and One down to the Quidditch Pitch to do a few laps around the goalposts. Ever since I was little and my father first taught me to fly a broomstick, I had been using it as an outlet for any and every negative emotion or feeling that passed through me. If my father yelled at me for something or my guilty conscience got the best of me after a particularly mean bit of bullying, a few laps around in the air always cooled my head.

Today, my little tradition worked wonders. After about ten minutes of zooming from one end of the pitch to the other and back again, I gained a bit of confidence and started to get creative. I flipped, turned, barreled, dived, climbed, dropped, plummeted, tossed, and spun away. I soared to the end of the pitch and even further, going further than I ever had from the Quidditch pitch. I flew over Hagrid's hut, over the Forbidden Forest, turned and skidded to a standstill right above the lake.

I was only a foot above the water's surface. I leaned forward on my broom to look my reflection full in the face. There I was, slicked back white blonde hair, eyes the color of rainclouds, ivory skin. These things I saw every morning in the mirror next to my bed in the Slytherin boy's dormitory. The part that was somewhat confusing and entirely worrying, was the crease between my eyebrows, the circles under my eyes, the blank and defeated expression in my face. The lack of sleep from the night before was obvious, and even flying for hours didn't have a chance in taking away any physical proof of my exhaustion. What I really needed was a rest. Unfortunately, I was expected to be at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for breakfast in about 20 minutes' time, and even if I could go back to bed, I wouldn't be able to do anything but toss and turn, just as I had the night before. Hermione—God, what was I saying? Granger—was constantly on my mind. How she looked, what she said to Weaselby, and how she made me feel when she thanked me last night.

I knew that the way I had been acting was a bit of a shock, as it was far from the way I usually acted around her or, honestly, anyone. But I was far from expecting any sort of genuine attitude. I had been waiting for some kind of outburst, something that I definitely would have deserved, but a thank you was nothing close to what I was prepared for.

I blinked, and focused my attention back onto my reflection. I looked a little worse for wear, but what could I do to change that? So I slowly glided back towards where I had left my things in the seats at the Quidditch pitch. Once I landed, I reached for my wand from my pocket and sent my broom back to my dormitory using a banishing spell. I then went straight for the Great Hall, heading for my usual seat near Crabbe and Goyle.

That was when I saw her. Granger was back to her bushy haired self, of course, but was at the Gryffindor table with Weasley and Potter. She looked a bit reserved, and possibly a tad quieter than usual, as was her friend the Weasel. Potter seemed to be acting as a mediator, which was typical.

As I walked past her, she glanced up and did the slightest of double-takes. Our eyes met, and she blushed.

I, of course, could never let Crabbe or Goyle or any of the other Slytherins for that matter, to think that I had lost my nerve, and I could feel their eyes on me as I looked at Granger. So, mentally punching myself as words tumbled from my lips, I said something that I could never take back.

"Alright, Granger? Potty? Weaselby? I can see your hair is back to normal, Granger, we were wondering last night, what did Weasley have to sell to get his hands on that hair product to make it look so much less—disgusting?"

Hermione's eyes widened and her eyebrows shot upward with apparent understanding as I heard a loud giggle from the Slytherin table and some chuckles from other tables. Everyone on the Gryffindor table, however, glared at me. Hermione, however, quickly regained composure and said calmly, "Why were you wondering, Malfoy? Want to know how to get a bottle of it to fix yours? I should tell you now, it can't eliminate grease and oil. Says so on the packaging."

A low chorus of "ooooh"s was let out as Ron, who had stood up in his anger with me, sat back down, glaring. "Shove off, Malfoy," he muttered, and I swept along past them, pissed that Granger had one-up-ed me but even more impressed at her insult and her composure. She was a clever little witch, I had to give it to her.

I watched Malfoy walk away with resentful eyes. I had thought that, maybe, his attitude towards us would have changed after what he said to me last night, but apparently, I was wrong. Not that it bothered me too much.

Ron and I were trying too hard to be nice to each other. We were maddeningly polite and I knew that Harry had noticed. He kept glancing at us, eyebrows squished together in silent frustration whenever we would obviously avoid an argument by giving up what we had been trying to say. I knew he had heard our, ahem, conversation last night, at least the end of it, which meant that he knew that I was so big headed that I thought Ron had wanted to go to the ball with me. I wondered what he thought about that.

For the next few weeks, Ron and I got along just fine. I mostly shoved aside the feelings for him that had developed only recently, and suffered only a tiny bit because of it. I spent more and more time with Viktor, and that always helped get my mind off of that unruly redhead that I was constantly thinking about, which was nice. We kissed a few more times, and got pretty close to doing more than just that; kissing. But I was only 14 years old, he was 18, and he understood when I lead his hands upward on my body rather than lower down. We never had "that" conversation, we only ever talked about "that" when it was right in the moment, and Viktor was begging to go a little further, just a little further, with either his words, or his eyes, or his hands even. Every time, I had to shake my head, take a step back, move his hand away from certain areas on my body. He got especially insistent the night after the second task, after he had "saved" me from the merpeople in the black lake, and had seen the scowl on my face as that bimbo Fleur Delacour kissed Ron on the cheek, when he did absolutely nothing. He had also invited me to visit him in Bulgaria that summer right after he "rescued" me, to which I said maybe. He apparently had been expecting a better answer than that, and continued advertising his jealousy towards Ron when he mentioned that I had stayed at Ron's house the summer before. I had to take a little break from Viktor after that, and sort of avoided him by spending all my time with Harry and Ron again. Of course, there was that ridiculous article in _Witch Weekly_ in which Rita Skeeter made me out to be some sort of "scarlet woman," as Ron so hilariously put it. I was walking from the library back to the Common Room with my hands in bandages from the hate letters I received after that article when I saw Malfoy, alone for the first time since our unexpected conversation in the halls after the Yule Ball. He tried to walk past me without a word, but I was too mad at the world to let him get away with that.

"Malfoy, what the hell?" He stopped in his tracks and turned around to look up at me with a strangled expression on his face.

"What do you want, Granger? What happened to your hands?" his expression betrayed a small amount of pity, which frustrated me to the point of losing my composure.

"Malfoy, you don't make any sense. The night of the Yule Ball you were—and now you're—and the day after you—and ever since you've been—ugh! I'm just so annoyed with you! I thought you had apologized and then you turned around and insulted me, which frankly, I wasn't surprised about, because I knew you had to keep up your 'image' but I thought you might be—oh, I don't know why I'm even bothering. Go ahead and continue to be a complete asshole, I really don't mind."

I hung my head in defeat, having just reminded myself what a waste it was to even attempt to coerce Draco Malfoy, of all people, into being a respectful person. Why couldn't I ever keep my fat mouth shut?

I turned around and walked away from Malfoy, heading towards the Common Room again. But his voice made me stop and face him.

"Granger, when I apologized that night, I wasn't kidding. I really do know how much pain and trouble and unnecessary anguish I've caused you and your friends. You, especially." Malfoy looked at my mouth, and I knew he was remembering, just as I was, that day not so long ago that he cursed my front teeth to grow at an unexplainable rate. He continued. "I just, I didn't think you were that accepting of my apology. And I didn't think we were good, so I just continued the charade of 'hating' you."

So what was he saying, that it was just a charade? Really? My jaw dropped a centimeter or two before I regained composure and said, "I don't hate you. You can pretend to be an ass in front of your friends, that I don't mind, but don't blow me off whenever I see you in the halls. That's all I ask for. If you're serious about being nice to me, I'd like to hear your story. Sometime."

Malfoy's eyes brightened. His unusually kind, gray eyes, that I had never paid much attention to, brightened with excitement. He was, of course, not exactly one to show his emotions easily, so he controlled his expression quickly. But I didn't think I could forget that one split second of eagerness outlined easily by the crinkles near his eyelids, the ever so slight dimples in his cheeks. An air of eagerness that someone as hateful as Malfoy could never fake. And when I realized that he was thinking about me when he acquired this look of satisfaction, I was stunned into silence. His gray eyes bored into mine, and I had to look down. I was getting shy because of Malfoy. What was this?

"I'd like to tell you. Sometime."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next day in Potions, I was just as mean as ever to Weasley and Potter. I just did my best to ignore Granger, though. I didn't know why I was being so nice to her every time she caught me alone. Before the Yule Ball, I had never had this problem before. I could be mean to anyone and everyone. And I was. But after I saw Granger in that dress, that light blue dress, with her hair smooth and silky, her feet bare as she walked through the halls, troubled, crying, vulnerable. After I saw that, I broke. I changed. But I only changed for her. I hadn't changed a bit for anybody else. But somehow, I found myself apologizing to Granger every single time I saw her. Well, it had only happened twice. But regardless, it was troubling.

In Potions, I spent the entire period stewing silently as Crabbe, my partner, and I worked together to mix a sleeping draught strong enough to sedate a hippogriff. Crabbe, unsurprisingly, kept chopping up the wrong ingredients and adding them at the wrong times. I was always able to correct his mistakes simply by balancing out the amount of the next ingredient I added, but he was becoming increasingly provoking. I eventually burst out of irritation.

"Crabbe! Just sit down and don't touch anything! You're so dimwitted and incompetent, it's a wonder you've even gotten this far in schooling. If you touch one more thing I swear I will curse those sausagey fingers flying off in every direction and your days of wanking off will be over!" I said this in a very low voice, thankfully, because if Crabbe had thought that anybody other than himself had heard this, my own days of wanking off would have been over. I wasn't afraid that he would be able to curse my fingers off, no one who had taken a single look at Crabbe would have been able to kid themselves into believing this was even possible, but I was very wary of the knife that was in his hands. He could probably chop off my, ahem, pelvic region in about a second. But I did see a small, almost inconcievable smirk on Hermione—I mean, Granger's face. She must've been paying very close attention to me to have noticed this lowest mumble of dissatisfaction. But that reminded me, again, of our conversation the day before.

She had said she wanted to hear my story. What story? She didn't know anything about my problems, about my family drama, so why would she assume-?

I wanted to shake my head roughly, to try to physically throw the thoughts bouncing around the inside of my head, but common sense told me it was pointless. So instead of trying to run away from my thoughts, I stayed put. Literally. And pretended to be cleaning up my cauldron so Snape wouldn't get suspicious, while shooting a look at Granger so she would stay behind too. She didn't catch it. That was easy enough to fix, I just shot a jinx at her cauldron so she would have to stay behind as well. My plan worked well; she told Potter and Weaselby to go ahead in front of her, and we were left alone. Snape had swept away into his office the moment the class was over.

"Granger, I'll make this quick so you can get back to your friends," I said, mumbling as low as I could as I walked past her. "What do you say we meet up on the Astonomy Tower tonight at 11? I sort of want to talk to you about something."

Granger looked at me with a surprised and pleased expression, nodded, and I disappeared. Perfect. At least this time, I was able to retain my "keep it cool" demeanor. My "I don't give a shit" attitude. Except, it was pretty obvious that I did give a shit. Which worried me again.

That night, at 15 minutes until 11, I cast a (substandard) disillusionment charm over myself and crept out of the boys dormitories, out of the Slytherin dungeons, and up towards the Astronomy Tower. I got there before she did, and took the time to mentally prepare myself. What was I going to tell her? How would I say it? What should I keep out? Did I want to leave anything out at all? I sort of—got the feeling that no matter what I could say to Hermione Granger, it would be locked up in her cerebral vault until I asked her to give me the combination and share it with the world. Which, obviously, I would never do.

I decided I wasn't going to chance it. I would wait here until Granger got here and make up some sort of excuse for bringing her up to me, and then maybe make a move. No, no, no, I really needed to talk to her about this. She was the only person who didn't seem to hate me that I could trust, and I needed some sort of outlet. But what if what I had to say was too disturbing? But I had to tell somebody!

My thoughts snowballed on each other for about 10 more minutes. I had just talked myself into leaving to avoid Granger and her questions, then hesitated, when I heard quiet footsteps coming up the staircase. I saw that bushy head that I had become so familiar with these past few weeks bobbing up towards me. Eventually, Granger's whole body was facing me, her brown eyes not looking away. She stopped in her tracks and waited for me to speak.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I stood at the top of the stairs and looked at Malfoy. He was sitting back against the wall, straight ahead of me. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his arms were wrapped around them, fingers threaded through each other loosely. His gray eyes, those gray eyes I was learning to interpret so quickly, were squinting in some sort of uneasy apprehension—it was an expression full of guilt, something you would expect to see in the face of a little boy that had been caught doing something his mother had specifically told him not to do. I looked at him with no emotion in my face, my chin was high and my shoulders square, my hands fell loosely to my sides. I was intent on this conversation to be empty of feeling, of sensation or passion, but suddenly I was worried that Malfoy would break that objective easily, and soon. He flashed an uncomfortable smile, something that had him backtracking quickly. His eyebrows met in confusion, and the grin settled into a puzzled frown, his eyes glanced down and he shook his head in small, swift movements as if trying to clear it before he looked at me again blankly. His focussed and obviously motivated look of passiveness made me smirk. I understood only too well how hard he was trying. This was very confusing for the both of us.

I took a tentative step forward, and Malfoy didn't flinch, as I expected him to. So I continued ahead until I was directly in front of him, towering over his unusually vulnerable form. His neck arched upward towards me, our eyes never broke contact.

I smiled again, and his determinedly vacant stare broke, and he grinned a tad. I kneeled down and sat down right in front of him, my crossed legs only inches from his bent knees. He rearranged himself to a cross-legged position as well, and now our knees were centimeters from each other.

I folded my hands on my lap and waited.

Eyes still boring into mine, Draco opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it. He did this twice more, and I waited patiently before he finally burst into speech, no hello, not a greeting of any sort.

"My parents are bad people," he said. His tone was a monotonous one. "You saw them at the Quidditch World Cup, you know they were the Death Eaters who tortured those filth—those muggles. They don't abuse me or anything, quite the opposite actually. They worship the ground I walk on. The last thing they want is for me to suffer. So they do everything it takes to make my life perfect."

At this, Malfoy's eybrows scrunched in frustration. The look disappeared quickly.

"I know I should be grateful, I know that. I know how much they sacrifice for me to be happy. But sometimes, their definition of 'happy' is a bit, well, warped.

"They raised me with the belief that everything and everyone is 'low-class' except for me. That nothing is worthy of my conversation, of my attention. That I am above everyone. That it's my job, my duty, to put everyone in their place. To tell them what scum they are. And sometimes I really like that. I like to think that I'm better than everyone, and that no one is worthy of my company. It makes me happy to tell everyone off and make them feel like shit. But sometimes, it's rare—well, not so rare these past few months—but sometimes, I think about how crappy that is of me to do that to people.

"I can't go back now, because it's who I am. I can try as hard as I want to be different, but only part of me even wants to try at all. Most of me _likes_ being a complete asshole to everybody. It was only very recently that I realized that there's a part of me, no matter how insignificant, that sort of—craves something else. It isn't dominant at all, honestly it only surfaces when I see you—"

My eyebrows shot up in surprse. Malfoy stuttered to a stop, his jaw dropped. Apparently, he had not meant to say this part out loud. I was very glad he had, though, it explained a lot. A lot of the feelings that had been confusing me for the past several weeks, and a lot of what had happened. I was very flattered.

Malfoy continued before I could say anything.

"But when I'm not around you, and I'm not thinking about you, I don't have any desire to change at all. Even now, I'm aware of what I'm saying and the truth in it, but I still have no aspiration whatsoever in doing anything about it. I know that's wrong, too. It's just—so confusing."

He waited.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I didn't know _what_ to say. I put my hands on my knees, I crossed them, I looked up in search for an answer and couldn't find one so I looked back at Malfoy and hesitated.

"I—"

He waited.

"I think—"

He blinked.

"I feel like—like changing takes a while. It doesn't happen all in one second."

I sighed, expecting him to say something, but his mouth was closed, his eyes bored into mine, searching, waiting for the answer that I didn't have. I sighed again.

"Malfoy, I don't know how to help you. I want you to change, but I can't do anything, it's all up to you. Telling me all this is a huge step, the first step towards change. But I don't know what the next step is, and I can't help you get there, if you even want to. I'll be there to talk to of course, and whenever else you want me there, I don't know why but now I feel—sort of—responsible. Like I need to be here for you. You're right, you've been an asshole to me since the beginning. You still kind of are." Malfoy cringed. Well, he needed to hear the truth. "But this is all up to you. It's all on your shoulders. I'm sorry I can't do anything else, but that's how these things work."

Malfoy shrugged and looked up, seemingly struggling on how to phrase what he wanted to say.

"I know this is weird Granger," he said, a strain on his words. He said it very carefully. "But I want—I want you to be my friend."

He stopped and looked at me squarely, letting his words sink in. I straightened up and blinked.

"Granger I—I know how smart you are, and I like you. You have good advice to give, and it seems like you'll be patient. You'll let me change into who I want to be at the pace I want to go. And I need you."

I was silent, for a very long time. We just looked at each other. I was still very confused. I liked what he was saying, his words made my body react strangely. My stomach almost squirmed, my heart seemed to explode. But I was very wary, this was Malfoy.

Eventually, I nodded. I smiled tentatively, and Malfoy grinned back at me. This was going to take some getting used to.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

As the weeks went on, I slowly got more accustomed to Hermione Granger's company. Slowly, we became friends; which was something I never expected to happen. Not in a million years.

We played our parts well: in front of people, I continued to be rotten towards her, she continued to insult me with increasing offense. It was tough at first, I could tell she was hurt by some of the things I said to her. But a few days into it, our charade of rudeness towards one another became a game. We would try to one-up each other each time we passed each other in the halls, or saw each other in the company of our friends who knew nothing, absolutely nothing, of our gradually strengthening friendship. Our insults usually ended in a night full of laughter in the Astronomy Tower, the place we ended up going to every time we spent time together.

It was becoming easier and easier to be friends with Hermione. Often, we would get in fights about silly things, or not so silly things. It was mostly about how I was so bitter towards her two _other_ best friend, who I refused to call by their first names, even after we abandoned the surname ridiculousness only days into our new comradeship. I still hated that Weasel and frustratingly fat-headed Potter, and wasn't afraid for Hermione to hear that. The insults I threw at them were still genuine, even if the ones I threw at Hermione were jokes under the surface.

She didn't like my choice in acquaintances, either. She loathed Crabbe and Goyle, and especially Pansy Parkinson, who had continued her incessant infatuation with me. She winced whenever I mentioned her name, so eventually, I didn't mention her anymore.

We also argued a lot about her boyfriend, Krum. I still talked to him every once in a while, and he seemed to like me, but I had a hard time wanting to be in his presence after Hermione told me that she had kissed him after the Yule Ball, and many times since. I even began to detest him once she confessed how she struggled to keep his octopus hands at bay. She didn't seem to be too interested in him; I thought that maybe she was only slightly attracted to him, and maybe she didn't want to break up with him as to avoid hurting his feelings.

I constantly thought about where our friendship was heading. I liked her, as I would only admit to myself. I was extremely jealous of Krum, and of Potter and Weasley of course. I knew Hermione was into Weasley especially, and I didn't want her to like anyone but me.

Our fourth year ended in catastrophe. Cedric Diggory died, and even I couldn't find it in me to be mischievous or unpleasant for the weeks that followed. Hermione spent most of her time with Potter and Weasley in the last few weeks of school, but when she did meet me in the Astronomy Tower, she barely talked. I thought she was just upset about Diggory, but upon our last meeting before we left for the summer holidays, she confessed the true reason behind her silence.

"Draco," she said, and a smile played across my thin lips, just as they always did when she said my first name. "I don't know if I can be your friend anymore."

My smile faltered; my heart stopped. What had I done? Didn't she understand that it was her friendship, this newfound happiness in my life, that kept me going? I lived for these nighttime visits. For our jokes, our conversations, our little arguments even. This couldn't stop. I wouldn't let it.

"What?"

She looked down at her twiddling thumbs.

"Draco, your dad is a Death Eater. You're on the bad side. I don't think I can continue this if you're going to be…" she trailed off.

"I'll change," I said, with complete sincerity. I would change for her. I would do anything.

She smiled and looked up at me, finally. "No you won't. You'll say you will, but I know you won't." Her eyes were sad, too sad. It made my heart ache. "Draco, I just—I don't want to pretend like this isn't a problem anymore. I hate You-Know-Who, I hate him with all of my being, and I will side with Harry and do whatever it takes to get rid of him. I'm scared of him, of what he can do, it's terrifying. And you sympathize with him, even if you are friends with me now, I know that it doesn't change how you feel about this. You're a Slytherin, and this has become serious. I just—I can't do it anymore. Everything has changed."

She looked down, letting her curly hair fall into her face, acting as a curtain. I heard her sniffle, and suddenly I knew that she was crying.

"Hermione—"

What could I say to fix this? I scooted forward and touched her hand. She didn't flinch away, and I knew that was a good sign.

"Hermione, I—"

I hesitated, and she waited.

"I would never hurt you. I would never let anybody else hurt you. And my family—we do sympathize with the Dark Lord, I won't lie to you. But—seeing you, knowing you, talking to you, that makes me want to—" I sighed. "It's the first step towards change, right?"

She glanced up at me through her curtain of hair.

"You won't hurt anybody? You have to promise that." She whispered so low I could barely hear.

I leaned closer and kept my voice low.

"Of course. I promise. Just—don't leave me."

How pathetic. I was becoming exactly the thing I hated about people. I was so dependent on her, on a simple girl, that I would not only consider changing everything about me, everything that made me who I am, just so she would continue being my friend. I really had changed a lot this year. But Hermione was the only one who would ever see that.

She smiled at me through her tears, and for the first time, wrapped her arms around my neck in a hug. My eyes opened wide in shock, but then closed in content. Thank God, she was going to stay. I relaxed and wrapped my arms hesitantly, lightly, around her waist.

We sat like that for what seemed like hours, and all of my senses were drinking her in. Hermione's hair was in my face, and I could smell her coconut-flavored shampoo. Where our bare skin touched, on my neck, on my arms, it tingled. I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, I could hear her steady breathing, feel it on my bare neck.

Eventually, she pulled away and looked at me. Her eyes were dry, and she smiled.

"Thank you"

That night, I thought about Hermione. I barely slept. I couldn't stop thinking about that hug. I realized, in my bed, staring up at the wall, that this might be the beginning of a relationship. We would spend time together this summer, she would break up with Krum, I might even get a chance to kiss her. Obviously, tonight was the beginning of something. She was going to choose me.

As Ron, Harry and I were waiting for the carriages to take us to the Hogwarts Express the morning of our departure, I thought about my meeting with Draco the night before. I had tried to tell him that we wouldn't be able to be friends anymore, with no success. Of course, he didn't know that I was still going to try my hardest to avoid spending time with him next year. I wouldn't dump him off completely, he had become important to me. But with all of the stuff that happened to Harry, I couldn't continue it the way it was going. I would write only a few letters over the summer.

Fleur Delacour interrupted my thoughts.

I still hated her. And, despite my relationship with Viktor, and my new friendship with Draco, I still harbored feelings for Ron. Now that I knew that things weren't going to work with Draco, and I had always known that Viktor and I would be done once he went back to Bulgaria, I fantasized about Ron without guilt. I thought a relationship with him was the most realistic.

So when Fleur came up, and Ron got beet red and stumbled over his words in obvious infatuation, I glared. I was still in a fowl mood when Viktor came up to us and asked for a word with me.

"Oh… yes… alright" I said, and followed him to a reclusive corner.

"Herm-own-ninny, I am so grateful for the time I haf spent vith you this year. I vont to thank you for everythink. You are a lovely girl, I hope you will write to me and I hope to see you soon."

I blushed. "Of course Viktor, and thank you so much for everything."

He kissed me. I knew this would be our last kiss, so I tried to make it nice. He wrapped his arms around my waist as our lips danced and he lifted me off my feet. My arms were wrapped around his neck and I kissed him back passionately, thinking suddenly of Draco. He never liked Viktor, and I wondered what he would say if he saw us now. The thought made me pull back from Viktor.

He set me on my feet, and without another word, brushed my cheek with the back of his hand, then took mine and lead me back to Harry and Ron. He shook their hands, and when Ron asked for his autograph, I couldn't help but smile. But when I turned towards the carriages, I saw Draco's face. In one look, I understood. He had seen my kiss with Krum.

On the way back to King's Cross Station, Draco came into our compartment. He said some really awful things to Harry, Ron, and I. He called me riffraff. He called me a Mudblood.

Before I knew it, I was on my feet, wand out, and Malfoy and his cronies were on the floor, resembling very ill human beings. I had cursed him, and so had Ron, Harry, and also Fred and George. I felt tears in my eyes. How could he?

When we reached King's cross station, I had to step over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. I almost started crying again, remembering what he had said, and the fact that he had only said it because he had seen me kiss Viktor. How sad, that he couldn't just be happy for me.

I shook my head to clear it, and waited for Harry and the twins to come out. As we reached where my parents were waiting for me, and where I parted with Harry and Ron for the summer, I hugged Harry and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. He looked surprised, but I knew that he needed all the support he could get.

I went over to my mum and dad's car, and in the back seat, I mentally prepared myself for the two very long letters farewell letters I would write when I got home. One would be for Viktor, and one would be for Draco.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Dear Draco,_

_I am astonished and appalled at your behavior on the Hogwarts Express. I was far from expecting that sort of performance, even from you. You're my friend, Draco, and I can understand how much you must hate Harry right now. He just accused (rightly so, you can't ignore that) your father of being a Death Eater, and escaped an incident that would have meant the uprising of a wizard with whom you sympathize. I know you can't have wanted Harry to die, Draco, you're too good of a person for that kind of despicable and vile wish, but your family definitely did. Which means that to you, Harry surviving is not good._

_But you should not have acted that way. It broke my heart to hear those words from you. I am a Mudblood, I would be stupid and idealistic to say that I wasn't. But we both know that there are kinder phrases for what I am. I don't know what I did to trigger such atrocious behavior or words, but it hurt. It definitely hurt, Draco. _

_I don't care what happened last year after the Yule Ball, I don't care about what we said the night before we left Hogwarts. This is the last time you will hear from me this summer, and the last time forever that you will hear anything kind from me. I am done with you, Malfoy. _

_Hermione Granger_

_ Hermione,_

_Look, I know what I said was out of line. And I know I need to explain myself, I just don't know how. I can't._

_Your stupid friend Potter could have gotten my father into a shitload of trouble with that stunt of his, and I tried to swallow my fury the night we talked about it but that was only for you. When I saw you kissing that scumbag before we borded the train I just—I got so mad at you, and at Krum, and at Potter, and at Weasley for being such an ass to you all the time, I just don't know I exploded and went a little mad._

_I know what you'll say, I was just acting like my usual self—the person I am when I'm not around you. As true as that is, I don't think you should stop being my friend because of that. I'm apologizing now, and I'm working on changing. Can't that be enough?_

_I don't want to have to get on my knees here, Hermione. Just let me make it up to you when I see you._

_Also, sorry it took so long to get back to you, I think someone's watching our mail so I have to send this from Eeylop's when my mother takes me to Diagon Alley._

_-Draco Malfoy_

_Hermione,_

_Stop ignoring me. I promise you if you curse me when you see me at Hogwarts, I will yell to the world that you're in love with me. They'll believe me, too. They've seen the way you look at my hot gorgeous bod._

_Listen, I know you're actually really mad. And you have every right to be. But I was actually hoping that we might be able to settle this in person before we're surrounded by a bunch of goons at Hogwarts. Maybe we can meet at Diagon Alley or something? Discreetly, of course._

_My mother is driving me up the wall, she won't stop blubbering about how "friendless" I am, so do me a favor here._

_Let me know what you think_

_-Draco Malfoy_

_ My Dearest Hermione That Pisses Me Off More Often Than Not,_

_I know what you're doing, and I know why you're doing it. And I know that you don't really want to do it, you just are afraid of what other people will say if you do it. But do you really think that I give a rat's ass about what your precious Potter and Weasel think about me? The time has come for us to be outed. My love for you burns hotter than the thousand suns that have fried thou loveth's dimwitted brains out! Not to mention his HAIR._

_Just kidding. I only love you in the way that a Slytherin can love an irrationally stubborn Gryffindor without killing her first. So we're just friends. FOR NOW._

_Sorry, I'm being a bit rambunctous. My mum just made me drink one of those HIGHLY unpleasantly flavored muggle energy drinks as a punishment for being too lazy this summer. So I'm a bit hyped up._

_Stupid Pansy Parkinson has come round my house about a billion times this past month that it's been that I've been waiting for your reply. She keeps coming into my room and kissing me and trying to get me on the bed, but I use my masculine strength to keep her clawing pincers off of me. She doesn't stand a chance, I'm just too manly. It still infuriates me to the point of internal combustion._

_You're the only woman I would ever have in my bed, Hermione. THE ONLY ONE! Hah! Hahahahahahaha. How can you even handle my outlandish hilarious wit? I'm just so funny._

_Not to mention attractive. Dazzling, magnificent, handsome, striking, stunning, beautiful, gorgeous. Take your pick of adjectives. You can probably come up with more, you're smarter than me. I wouldn't mind hearing them, either, you know how fragile my self esteem is._

_Anyway, Granger, on to a more serious point. I miss you. Yes, it's true. Draco Malfoy is capable of missing a girl. Go ahead, take your bow, it's well-deserved. But yeah, I really do. And I'm not going to stop sending you these pointless letters until you do one of two things. These are your choices: choice one, you write back immediately and confess your love for me, choice two, you write back immediately and confess your love for me and we meet in Diagon Alley when you go with Harry and that ugly rat with red hair you call a friend to get your things for school. We should be getting our letters any day now. _

_Also, I heard that Potter got off with that ridiculous man we call a Headmaster. I was hoping for a moment there that I would never have to see his sorry ass at school again! Wishfull thinking._

_Alright alright, my hand is getting tired despite the delerious amount of what-do-you-call-it, calf-fiend? That muggle concoction. Point is, I'm going to stop writing now. _

_Draco_

_Dear Hermione,_

_PLEASE STOP IGNORING ME. Okay fine, I know you, and I know begging isn't going to work._

_I demand you to respond at once!_

_God damn you, Hermione. Answer me already! I'm going crazy. You can't still be mad at me for that slip up on the train. It's been more than 2 months! We have precious little time left of the summer vacation, only a few days left, and I was hoping to be able to see you so we could talk before we have to be all secretive. I'm going to Diagon Alley the day before we leave for school, please meet me. _

_Your best friend in the entire goddamned universe,_

_Draco Malfoy_

_Hermione,_

_This is the last time I will ask. Please come visit me, ALONE, at the Leaky Cauldron on Sunday. Please please please please please please please please please please please PLEASEPLEASELEASEPLEASEPLEASE! _

_LOVE,_

_DRACO_

_P.S. Sorry about the caps, I'm a tad stressed out. I don't want to lose you as a friend. Joking aside, that would mess up my life and all that I accomplished last year._

_Draco,_

_Calm down, will you? Goodness gracious. I'll come, alright? You better be buying me lunch._

_Not at the Leaky Cauldron, though. Meet me at that burger place near it. The muggle one. I don't want anyone to see us together._

_Hermione_

_P.S Be there at noon. If you aren't I'm leaving, and I'll take back all the nice things I've thought about you this summer. And I'll still curse you next time I see you._

I was there before noon. I was there WAY before noon. I had too much anticipation boiling in my blood to just sit around waiting to be able to get up and leave my house, so I got up and left my house without waiting. Two hours earlier than I should have.

At first, I simply sat in the burger joint Hermione had mentioned to wait, but when I saw Ernie Macmillan walk past the window to go into the Leaky Cauldron, I started to realize that someone I knew might walk past and recognize me sitting in a muggle restaurant by myself. That was the last thing I wanted. Who knows what they would think of me?

I ended up wandering aimlessly through the streets of Diagon Alley. I didn't want to eat, I wanted to save up my appetite for when I went to lunch with Hermione, so I went in and out of each of the shops. I visited Madam Malkins, and stirred up a bit of trouble there. I complained a tad loudly about the quality of her material. I said it was "substandard and fit for the rodents that scampered through here at night." I also pissed off a few of the workers at Flourish & Blott's, telling them to stick their rules and regulations up their asses. Finally, the clock tolled noon, and I was able to return to the restaurant outside of Diagon Alley.

I arrived earlier than Hermione did, but only just. I had just taken a seat at one of the comfiest booths when I saw her walk through the door, wearing muggle attire fairly close to my own. While I was wearing loose dark blue jeans like the ones I had seen in an ad on the way up here and a form-fitting white t-shirt, she was wearing tighter blue jeans, a shade or two lighter than my own, and a tight white thick strapped tank top. Her curly hair looked very, well, high-fashion, there was no other term for it. Instead of trying to hide her frizz, she had embraced it, and looked like she should be in a fashion shoot. She stepped inside and took off her chrome aviator sunglasses and tucked them in her jeans pocket, glancing around the room. I caught her attention with a wave, and she started towards me.

She looked beautiful, absolutely beautiful. This was exactly what I had missed the entire summer. She looked so natural, so normal, and so _Hermione_. I smiled without showing my teeth and stood up in respect to allow her to sit down at the table. She just grabbed my arm and said, "We can't actually eat here Malfoy! I just wanted to meet here. We have to go somewhere more… secluded. I don't want anyone to see us together. I've already seen at least five other Hogwarts students that would recognize us in a heartbeat! Come on, let's go."

She pulled me back to the door and outside. Once we got into the fresh air, we both ducked our heads instinctively to avoid detection, and she wrenched me through the crowd by my arm.

"Hermione—where are we going then? I swear it's not a big deal… if it was why did you even bother? This is worse than trying to hang out at school! What's the point?"

She turned around to glare at me, still weaving through the foot traffic that was so common here in London.

"The point is, Draco, I need to talk to you about something and I would like to spend a bit of time with you anyway, plus if I don't do this, I wouldn't be surprised if you actually did tell everybody that we're friends, just to get back at me. I just want to take precautions."

We were both silent for another five minutes or so. Eventually, we arrived at a quaint Muggle café off the main streets in London, and Hermione pulled me, much gentler this time around, through the doors.

I stumbled around, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, and looked at the walls around me. Each wall was a different color: mauve, dark blue, redish orange, and a deep sea green. There were assorted chairs and tables, not one pair matched. There were only three customers: one blonde lady, only a few years older than Hermione and me, was sitting on an overstuffed baby blue arm chair, typing away at her computer; there was an old man with graying hair that sat at a small table, sipping at a mug and reading a muggle newspaper that was dated several days previously; and a man in his mid-40's that was simply sitting and drinking an iced coffee. There was a young man and a young woman behind the counter cleaning. Nobody spoke, but there was a loud jazz number coming from the speakers that would have drowned out any conversation anyway.

Hermione led me to a small, round table with comfy chairs and pushed me into one of them, sitting across from me. She looked around at the place while she said, "We can go get a sandwich or something in a bit, I think you have to order from the counter…" she trailed off when she looked at me, I could imagine what sort of exasperated expression lay on my face.

"Well, what do you want from me, Draco?" she asked defensively. "If any of your Death Eater relatives saw me with you they would execute me on the spot, I'm a Mudblood, remember?" She looked at me scornfully, and I stuttered a bit under her glare before I held my chin higher and responded with dignity.

"You don't get to choose your family, Hermione! Don't blame me for their mistakes." I raised my eyebrows up and down a few times, then looked over at the counter the young muggles were working at. "Do you think they have any butterbeer?"

At this, Hermione stifled a giggle. Good, I had gotten her to laugh. Well, almost.

"Draco, don't be so daft. Of course not. I'll go order us something you might actually enjoy in a minute."

Great. This was it. I knew she only came because she was going to dump me, and she was too nice to do it in a letter. Wait, what was I talking about? Dump me? We weren't even together. I just meant… tell me she didn't want to be friends with me. Which was probably worse than being dumped.

"Draco, I…" she trailed off, the air between us suddenly became awkward, as I knew what she was preparing to say and she knew that I knew it.

"Hermione, you don't have to say anything, I know." I said.

"You know?" she asked, a look of relief passing over her face. Then she shook her head and scrunched her eyebrows together and settled into a look of determination. "I don't care if you know, Draco. I have to say it anyway. This next year… we can't be friends. What I said in the letters were true. But it's not about what you said on the train, it's just… V-v-v—You Know Who—he's back and your father is a Death Eater and you're probably on the same path to becoming one and I'm involved in—well, I'm going to do whatever it takes to get rid of him. And I don't want you to be hurt just because you're acquainted with me. So… I just think… that this is for the best."

Hermione's eyes were downcast as she finished her small speech.

"No."

She looked up at me, exasperated and, somehow, relieved.

"Draco, I mean it I—"

"Hermione, it's too late. I've already—" I almost just told her my feelings for her. No, too early Draco, too early! "I've already spent time with you. And even if we discontinue spending time with each other, if the Dark Lord or my father or anyone else performed Legilimency on me, they would know that I had been thinking of you, that we had spent time together. So I'd suffer no matter what. It's too late. Why don't we just make it easier on ourselves and enjoy the time we have left? You're my only friend, Hermione. I—I really like you."

She smiled, albeit reluctantly. But she still smiled.

"Okay."

"Really?"

She smiled again and nodded. "Now let's go get food." She said, and stood up to head for the counter.

"Wait a minute, Hermione, this is my treat, remember? Let me at least give you the money for it…"

"They don't use galleons or sickels here, they use pounds. Don't worry, I have enough."

"You think I'm not prepared? Hermione, here." I handed her a few notes and waited for a pat on the back or something of the sort. However, with Hermione, I was almost always disappointed with her reaction to any of my accomplishments. She just giggled and walked towards the counter.

She came back several minutes later with two plastic cups with lids of lemonade, and grilled sandwiches. "These are going to be so good," she said, and plopped down across from me, digging in.

She was so beautiful as she ate. I found myself, while I devoured the sandwich that I had no idea muggles were so apt at making, watching her silently. Watching the way she pushed her hair out of her face every time she went to take a bite, the way she laughed and grabbed her napkin hurriedly when she took too big of a bite and tomato got all over her face. She was just, something so pure and so natural. I found myself thinking of how on earth I had gotten here. To this muggle café, with this muggle born, the definition of everything I had learned to hate and did hate for the better part of my life, listening to this music, thinking these thoughts. And I found myself thanking whatever it was out there that brought us together that night at the Yule Ball and that gave me the sense to talk to her and comfort her, whatever it was, I thanked it for bringing me the only happiness I had known in ages.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"That was really nice, Draco, thank you," I said, 2 hours after we had started eating those sandwiches. "I'll see you on Monday, okay? On the train. In the prefect's compartment."

"Okay, but just remember: if I insult you, I don't mean it. If I insult Weasely, that dimwitted friend of yours that is far from deserving the title of prefect – Dumbledore must be losing his mind, I've been saying it for ages—I do mean it. Same with all your other Gryffindor friends. And Potter, too. That boy should be staying in that muggle home of his, I can't believe the Wizengamot has let him off! Saint Potter…"

I was laughing silently as Draco's monologue faded out. "Draco, you just don't get over things, do you?" I said between giggles. "Sometimes you just need to let things go."

"Says the one who held a grudge for 2 months this summer."

I shrugged. "That was a little more reasonable, I think. Anyway, I should get back now before Harry realizes I took his Invisibility Cloak." I got on my tip toes and hugged Draco around his neck, he didn't hesitate even a second, and his arms immediately wrapped around my waist. He spoke softly, face burried into my hair."Yeah, how do you expect to get away with this? Wouldn't they have realized you were gone for so long?" I pulled back and gave him a mischevious look.

"McGonagall never made me give her that Time Turner back, so I'm covered." I said, and winked before I glanced around and, when positive no Muggles were watching, made one quick move and Harry's cloak was protecting me from view. Invisible, I kissed Draco quickly on the cheek and walked on towards Grimmauld Place. Peeking over my shoulder, I saw Draco turn beet red and touch the place where my invisible lips had lingered, and mouth the words "Goodbye Hermione." I blushed under the cloak and walked on.

I got back to Grimmauld Place just as my past self was disappearing in mine and Ginny's room – I had just sent Ginny to get the two of us some sandwiches from Mrs. Weasely. I resumed my place on the bed and sprayed myself with my body spray in order to camouflage Draco's scent – I had hugged him plenty of times. She walked in within minutes, just as I had finished stashing Harry's cloak underneath my pillow.

"My mum gave me about 4 times as many sandwiches as we can actually eat, so I'll go get the boys, they'll be thankful for a break from Mum's endless cleaning. Be right back. Feel free to chow down, Hermione." I smiled and reached for a ham and cheese as she backed out of the door again, leaving the plate of towering sandwiches next to me on my bed. She left the door open a crack, so I peeked through it out into the hall to make sure no one was around, and hurriedly, I grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and ran through the hall to one of Kreacher's many "hidey-holes" and stuffed it inside, praying that he wouldn't tear it apart before Harry or one of the Weasleys were able to find it and blame him for stealing it. I ran back to the bedroom just before Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny walked in, all the boys wiping their hands on their jeans. "—Yeah, Ginny, I'm sure it's somewhere in the house, the question is where. Harry and I looked everywhere in our room for it, it's not in there. But we're not stupid enough to think it got lost somewhere outside the house," Ron was saying scornfully, he walked in the door facing backwards, looking at Ginny with an exasperated expression on his face. "So just stop trying to be all smart, Ginny, and help us look for it."

"Ron," I said, "Quit being so rude."

Ron turned around, eyebrows squeezed together, mouth wide open undoubtedly to reply with a supposedly witty remark, but his words died in his throat. His jaw remained dropped in what turned into a confused and appreciative look as his eyes remained on my face, and he closed his lips slowly, eyebrows loosening up and shooting straight through his bangs to a place on his forhead I could not see.

"You look… different. What happened?"

My eyebrows reached upward on my forhead as well: I hadn't been aware that my appearance had changed at all since I had last seen Ron or any of the others. "Nothing. Different how?"

At this point, all the others had reached the bedroom as well, and Fred and George pushed past a stupefied Ron to get to the sandwiches, each took a butterbeer from the case that Ginny had in her hands.

"I dunno," Ron said, "Just, different I guess. I don't know how."

"Ron's right," said Harry, reaching for a sandwich as well, not as worried about my apparent "change" as Ron was. "It's your expression, or something. Hard to explain."

At this point, I knew they must both be hallucinating, unless they just knew me so well that they could see how happy I was to have seen Draco. But it couldn't be that, I don't wear my emotions on my sleeve, I'm much more difficult to read than that.

Ginny looked at me, the same confused expression as Harry's and Ron's on her face, and suddenly her expression relaxed into one of perceptible understanding. She didn't say anything.

"Whatever," I said. "You guys are just crazy. Eat, will you? And what is it you lost Ronald?"

Ron shook his head to clear it, and Harry was already over it, apparently. Poor thing had more on his mind than any unnoticable change in me. "Not me," Ron said, grabbing a sandwich off the diminishing pile, "Harry. He can't find his Invisibility Cloak." He stuffed half of a turkey sandwich into his mouth.

"Oh, that?" I said, trying to be believable. "I think I heard Kreacher mumbling something about it while Ginny was getting you. Maybe he has it."

Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise, either at the fact that Kreacher had "stolen" his cloak, or he had seen right through my lie and was wondering what I had to gain for not telling the truth. He nodded, though, and said, "I should've known."

Our chatter turned towards a nonstressful subject matter, mostly established by me, my good mood radiating out towards everyone around me. Even Harry, whose summer had been far from good, and whose smile I had not seen many times since before the second task, seemed to be having a good time. The mindless conversation about other students at Hogwarts, jokes about each other's love lives, and talking about pretty much everything that wasn't about Voldemort or the Order of the Phoenix was a really nice change. It was time to eat again before we knew it, and we all walked down the stairs to the party that was supposed to be celebrating mine and Ron's new prefect badges.

Once I was on my own and the party was going on everywhere around me, Ginny appeared with two butterbeers and sat down next to me at the table. Mundungus, Fred, George, and Harry were whispering in a secluded corner, and everyone else was deep in conversation; nobody was near enough to hear Ginny.

"So what is up with you? You can't have gone off to meet a boy in the short time I was gone to get sandwiches, but I know it was you who took Harry's cloak earlier, I saw it hidden under your pillow."

I gaped, and my mouth open and closed without any words coming out.

"Uhh…" I said, not sure how Ginny could see that much in on second.

"Look, Hermione, you can't fool me. What happened? I know it isn't Ron that's making you feel so happy all of a sudden, and it better not be Harry that you're having some sort of secret affair with, you know I like him. Is it one of the twins? Though, you're way out of their league. Are you in love with Sirius or Kingsley or someone who's here all the time? The older men around here can be pretty gorgeous, I must admit." Her squinted as she thought and she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. "Oh my God!" her eyes widened and she looked scandalized. "You're hooking up with Lupin!"

I had to laugh at that.

"Ginny," I said, shaking my head in amusement. "I am not in love with anyone here, but you are right about one thing." I said. I had been contemplating telling Ginny about my friendship and growing crush on Draco all summer, but hadn't made a decision just yet. Apparently, she had made the decision for me when she decided to be so intuitive all of a sudden.

"Who is it?" she asked, voice raising an octave or two in excitement. She realized her mistake and looked around; making sure no one had heard her. "Who is it?" She whispered.

"Okay," I said, almost regretting planning on telling her already. "You have to promise not to tell anyone ever. Okay?" I said, holding out my pinky for a pinky promise.

"Okay, okay," she said, impatiently grasping my pinky with hers. "Just tell me already!"

"Alright, Ginny, you have to understand something first. Remember that time turner I told you about in my third year?" She nodded. Comprehension dawned on her face and I nodded, knowing she understood everything already. Everything but the most important thing: "But who did you go see?" she asked.

I took a deep breath.

"It was—"

I looked around me, no one was paying attention. Ginny nodded in encouragement.

I took a deep breath again, and squinted my eyes closed so as not to see her reaction to the name I was about to utter.

"Draco Malfoy." I forced the name out of my mouth quickly, and when she didn't say anything, I opened my eyes slowly.

"What?" Ginny said. "I can't understand you. What did you say?"

Apparently I had said his name a bit too fast.

I sighed again. "Draco. Malfoy." I said, slowly and quietly. Ginny's face turned from a suspicious, confused, interested expression to one of utter shock. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened, and she started to yell "DR—" before I closed my hand over her mouth and she realized her mistake, eyes enlarging even more. We both whipped our heads around, looking for anyone who had heard. Nobody had. "_Draco Malfoy?"_ she whispered, incredulous. "Explain."

Ginny pestered me for the entire story of how Draco and I had started to talk and become friends, and asked me question after question. Did I like him? Had he kissed me yet? How long had this been going on? What did we do today? It was relentless. But, I had to admit, it was really, _really_ nice to be able to get it off my chest. And Ginny finally knew about the crush on Draco I had been harboring for months.

By the end of the night, Ginny knew everything about me and Malfoy. She was more excited than mad at me for being so close to what the boys in our lives would title "the enemy." I was surprised that her reactions to my stories were mostly squealy and eager, when I was expecting a completely hostile or distant because of the boy that it was about. Even after we were sent to bed after several butterbeers and other conversations with the other adults that were there, Ginny continued to ask me questions about Draco. I eventually had to tell her in a very hard voice that I was going to sleep, and that we had to wake up early in the morning the next day.

After Ginny stopped talking, _finally,_ I stayed up in bed for hours, and I thought about the thing I had been thinking about all day—Draco. Now that I had time to think about him more, and I didn't have Ron pestering me about why I "looked different" or Ginny bugging me about "how perfect my date with him" was, and my brain was free and silent enough to really think about my future with Draco. I thought about our conversation early in the day, where I tried to tell him how difficult it was about to get and he refused to understand. When he told me that it was pointless to stop being friends because we were screwed no matter what, I realized that it was hopeless. Whatever I did or said was not going to change his naivety in the greater outlook of things. He wouldn't grasp the dangers of our unlikely companionship until it was too late; so I, of course, had to be the careful one. As always.

Draco was never going to hurt me intentionally, I knew him that much. But there would always be that small part of him that I didn't understand. He and I had become close friends over the past year, that was true, but there were the three and a half years before our friendship that would never leave my memories. He had been cruel and cowardly, he had insulted me, he had cursed me, he had gone out of his way to get my friends and I in trouble or to hut me. Now, I knew things had changed because of whatever, but things had. And he was nice to me now, he cared about me. But that past would never escape me, and it reminded me every day that I might be completely wrong about him. I couldn't let my guard down completely, not ever. Because there was always that chance that something would happen, that he would change his mind or realize exactly how threatening our friendship could be to his relationship with his family or to his future as a Death Eater.

But I couldn't stop thinking about how much I was beginning to like him. I really cared about Draco; that much was obvious, but I hadn't been prepared for the wrenching feeling in my heart when I requested the suspension of our secretive friendship earlier that day. I really was extremely relieved when Draco told me no. It was only then that I realized how much I had been counting on his closeness. And how much I had missed him over the summer holidays. And how much I had missed his blonde slicked back hair, his gray eyes, his pointy chin, his sarcastic demeanor, and how he seemed to hate everyone and everything around him except, well, me.

It took me a long time to fall asleep that night, as my brain was working about as hard as it did in final exams, and my last coherent thought was of Draco's face after I kissed him on the cheek earlier today; the blush in his cheeks, the rare smile on his lips, and the contentment and, I thought, affection that was obvious in his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Wanna go find a compartment?"

I hesitated and looked at Ron. "Er…" he said. We turned back towards Harry.

Ron stuttered and looked at me for help, so I jumped in. "Actually, Harry, we're supposed to go meet up with the Head Boy and Girl in the prefect's compartment. But it shouldn't take too long, we just need to get rules and instructions." I gave an apologetic smile and Harry muttered something and turned around towards Ginny. Ron shrugged at me and said, "Well, shall we?" and motioned down the corridor. The train was beginning to pick up speed.

I nodded, trying my best to keep my excitement inside. I was going to see Draco soon, and despite the difficulties of our relationship at Hogwarts, I was quite excited to begin our insult competition at such an early time of the year. I had a few good ones up my sleeve.

Ron and I headed up to the front of the train, where we had been instructed to visit instantly after our departure from Platform 9 ¾ . We reached the compartment, and to Ron's dismay and my expectations, Draco was sitting across two seats proudly, the only occupant of the compartment, a smug grin on his face. As I ignored Ron's sigh and walked into the compartment, I realized that, regardless of all the time I spent loathing that smug grin of Draco's, I was really starting to admire it. To keep up with the charade of "hating Malfoy," I shared an exasperated look with Ron as we sat down, and Ron rolled his eyebrows.

"Surprised, Weasley? Granger? Didn't expect me to become a prefect, did you? Although I must confess myself confused. Why did the stupid old man choose you, Weaselby? When he has Saint Potter to pick to be a prefect? It can't have to do with genes, at least Potter's mudblood mother was supposed to be beautiful. And his father wasn't nearly as dimwitted or poor as yours." Malfoy's smirk grew in length, and as he glanced at me, he gave me a quick but noticeable look that clearly showed me that he was only messing with me. I glared at him and, before the red-eared Ron next to me could say anything, said, "What would you know about beautiful mothers, Malfoy? Yours isn't good looking in the slightest. And if you're going to talk about how dimwitted Mr. Weasley is, you might want to re-think that. Have you even had a single conversation with your father? Oh wait, probably not, he most likely despises everything about you." I smirked back at Malfoy, who was looking appalled and angry yet impressed, and sat down just as the other new prefects and the new Head Boy and Girl walked in and sat down.

Throughout the lecture from the Heads, I found myself glaring at Pansy Parkinson's hand, which was constantly touching Draco. His knee, which would jerk out of her reach within seconds, his hand, which would flex and struggle out of her grip fairly quickly, his hair, his upper arm, and once his cheek. Each touch was obviously uninvited yet familiar to Draco: he probably was used to jumping away from that cow's touch.

Every so often, Draco's eyes and mine would meet. Sometimes it was a concealed glance, where we would look away from each other quickly so as not to be detected from our peers. Other times it was a look of irritation or boredom that we shared, a roll of the eyes, or an uninterested smirk, result of Parkinson's incessant physical contact or the words of the Heads. I was a tad more interested in what they had to say, however, so these looks were mostly one-sided.

By the end of the prefects meeting, the lunch trolley had already gone past Harry's, Ginny's, and Neville's compartment, so when Ron and I arrived, Ron plopped onto a seat and grabbed a snack before groaning about Malfoy being a prefect as well.

"And that complete cow, Pansy Parkinson is the girl prefect for Slytherin." I shook my head in disgust. I hated that girl.

Luna Lovegood was in the compartment as well, as I soon realized, after she laughed a bit too much at one of Ron's jokes. Malfoy and his horrid friends, Crabbe and Goyle, also came in a few minutes after Ron and I, made a few more rude jokes about Ron, Harry and I, then left. I could tell that my insult from earlier in the prefect's compartment was forcing Draco to try to outdo me in insults. Understanding his need to be smarter and meaner than me, I let this one go.

When the train arrived at Hogsmede Station, I helped the first years find the boats, where Professor Grubbly-Plank was waiting, without Ron, and assisted the older years to get into the carriages. While Ron lagged behind with Harry, (understandably; Harry was still pretty hurt about not being chosen to be a prefect) I ran into Draco.

I glared at him a bit overdramatically, and he showed his usual smirk. I was prepared to just nudge his shoulder and continue on in what I hoped to be an inconspicuous way, but he grabbed my elbow in the sneakiest way he could and said under his breath, "Meet me at the Astronomy Tower after everyone goes to sleep," and walked off, saying loud enough that everyone could hear, "Watch it, Granger."

I grinned and shook my head to clear it, then headed off to the carriage I saw Ron and Harry standing in front of.

After the sorting, the feast, and Dumbledore's annual speech, Ron and I had to show the new Gryffindors the way to the Fat Lady and to their dormitories. After that, I went straight to my room and pretended to be excited to see Parvati and Lavender again.

"Oh my gosh, Hermione, your hair looks so great!" Lavender said with a quick look at Parvati. These girls really did not know how to pay a girl a compliment that they didn't believe. "Thanks, Lavender," I said, and turned to my four poster to draw back my curtains and unpack my things into my bedside table as the two girls started gossiping about other people's over the holidays stories. As I was finishing, however, and just as I was ready to get into bed, close my curtains, and wait until the voices died away so I could get up to see Draco, I heard Harry's name flow from Parvati's and Lavender's newly whispered conversation.

"Harry seems different," Parvati was saying quietly. "I mean, he can't be making this all up. He seems pretty… upset…" Parvati trailed off.

"Parvati," Lavender said in a bit of a harsher undertone. "He's bullocks. He and Dumbledore are just crazy, You-Know-Who is gone for good and Cedric died in a freak accident."

I had become steadily angrier as Lavender continued talking, and at this point, I was outraged.

"Lavender, don't be so thick," I said, whipping my head around sharply, an incensed glare on my face that made Parvati and Lavender cower. "Harry would never dream of lying, especially of something so imperative to the Wizarding World." I glared at them, then softened my expression.

"Look, it's okay to be frightened of V-v-v—You Know Who. Everybody is, they'd be crazy not to be. But Harry saw him return, and Dumbledore had the sense to tell the Ministry of Magic all about it, and just because Cornelius Fudge and his big head are so terrified of the mere thought of You Know Who, he's decided to say that Harry and Dumbledore are going crazy rather than face the truth."

At that, I whipped my head back around, got into bed, and closed the curtains behind me.

I was laying on top of my covers in my pajamas, and Parvati and Lavender had stopped talking completely. I guessed they and the other two girls in my dorm had fallen asleep after about 45 minutes of complete silence and about 15 minutes after they had turned out the lanterns. I peeked through my curtains, and when I saw that I was right in thinking I was the only girl awake in the dorm, I snuck out of my bed and across the halls of the school to the Astronomy Tower, where Draco told me to meet him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

He was waiting for me there. As soon as my foot left the top step in the staircase, my body was encased in a very strong hug that almost made me fall right back down the stairs.

"Hey Draco," I mumbled into his chest.

"I'm so, so, so sorry for what I said to you today. I'm a big-headed jerk and I have a problem and I try to impress you by insulting Weasley and Potter but then I just go overboard and insult you too and I call you names and I am just a total ass and I'm so sorry—"

"Draco, it's not a big deal, okay? I was just as bad."

He let me go but held on to my shoulders and looked questioningly into my eyes. "Seriously," I said, and smiled encouragingly. "I didn't even think twice about it. I've learned that you don't really mean half of anything you say." I winked. He laughed and put an arm around me to lead me over to the couch he seemed to have conjured that was sitting in the corner, near a window.

"Wow, Draco. You're really getting better at these." I sat down on the couch and tried to ignore the patches and rough spots on the couch; I knew if I corrected him now he'd be bitter for the rest of the night.

"Listen, Hermione," Draco said, ignoring my praise. His arm was still wrapped strongly around my shoulders. "I know how you feel about this friendship of ours. I know that it's hard to keep it underground and it's practically impossible to continue to be even friends without anybody finding out, but… well, I was thinking… I really like you, Hermione, and… I know it's weird…." I smiled. Was he going to try to ask me out? I let him stumble on his words, he was obviously embarrassed for what seemed to be the first time in a lifetime. "I just… like I said, I really like you and… well, I figure Krum is completely out of the way now, I mean, he's in a different country, isn't he? And it's just that…" Draco finally looked at me and saw my smile. "You can stop me any time you know," he said, a bit of an irritated frown on his face.

I giggled softly. "I just don't want to, you're cute when you're embarrassed." I smiled softly when he looked down at his knees and smiled in awkwardness. My smile grew and, in a bold move that surprised even myself, I touched his chin with soft fingers. Draco looked up at me, straight into my eyes, in an expression of such fierceness, such intensity, that I felt that he was glimpsing my very soul. I felt the grin slip off my face and a look of curiosity mingled with passion crept upon it, and Draco turned his face towards mine, strengthened his grip on my shoulders, leaned in, and pressed his lips to mine.

My heart exploded with pleasure. My very skin tingled with an intense fiery craze, and the shock of it made my lips wrench away from Draco's.

I looked at him, and he looked at me. His fingers, which were still wrapped around my shoulder, twitched, and we breathed out in ragged breaths simultaneously. I smiled in bliss and closed my eyes, drinking in Draco's presence, the peacefulness of this very moment.

I could only enjoy it for about a second before the fire started again, and Draco's lips were upon mine once more.

The kiss was a passionate dance between two people starved of each other's presence for years; suffocating for lack of touch. Our movements were instinctual, neither of us thought about what we were doing, we just did it, and we enjoyed it.

My mind was blank, just filled with a warm, pink air that seemed to emanate and travel to my heart, where it caused a loud pounding. It traveled to my stomach, where it created a tingling sensation that I usually associated with the anxious feeling I got right before a test or a performance. Now I finally understood what everyone was talking about when they said that you should get "butterflies" during a kiss. This feeling must have been what they were talking about.

One of Draco's hands was still around my body, only now, in a move of passion, he had wrapped it tightly around me and let it fall to my waist. I could hardly breathe, but I didn't care. His other hand reached up and rested on my cheek, enveloping it completely. I felt his calluses brush over my closed eyelid, down my cheekbone, past my jaw, and he placed his hand on the back of my neck, under my curtain of hair, setting off an outbreak of goose bumps on my neck, back, arms, and legs. I reached one arm around Draco's neck and another to his cheek. I entwined my fingers through his hair as I opened my lips and sucked gently on his lower lip.

Draco let out a low groan, and his arms toughened around me, bringing my body even closer to his, if that were possible. His mouth opened as mine did and I allowed my tongue to slip past his warm lips and trace the inside of his mouth. He shivered, and his tongue met mine.

Our tongues twisted and danced, our lips met and pulled back and touched again, we nibbled at each other's mouths and our breath was synchronized. Our kiss—or I should say, kiss after kiss after kiss—could have lasted for hours or just minutes. It could have lasted all night for all that I knew. And I wouldn't have wanted it to stop. It seemed like this kiss was everything I ever wanted from Draco, and everything I never got from Viktor. Viktor was a nice kisser, he was sure experienced, and Draco obviously was as well, but this—this was something more than expertise—this was… this was… this was just more.

I heard a tapping on the window and Draco and I broke apart.

We looked over, startled, and saw a barn owl sitting on the window ledge outside. I looked up at Draco, whose hair was tangled and sticking up in strange places and who was lying on top of me on the couch, both hands buried under my body at the small of my back. My arms were wrapped around his neck, and our legs and feet were entwined at the bottom of the couch. I raised my eyebrows at him, and we both disentangled ourselves from each other and stood up from the couch, blushing slightly. I padded over to the window (barefoot—my shoes had been kicked off without my realizing it) and let the owl in. He flew straight to the couch, right where Draco was standing, and lifted his leg, where there was a small scroll, waited for Draco to untie it from his leg, then flew off and out of the Astronomy Tower.

I walked over to Draco quickly and took the scroll from him.

"Okay," I said, breathless and still flushed. "You can read this in a minute, but first, what the bloody hell just happened Draco?"

I stood there in front of him, scroll behind my back and shoulders square, and Draco smiled, ran his fingers through his hair, and sat down on the couch again. "We kissed, Hermione. Don't you know what a kiss is?" His smile grew. "Oh, don't be such a smart ass, Malfoy." I whacked him. His smile grew even more.

"Alright, Hermione, I'll tell you what happened. We just had a crazy make out sesh and I wouldn't mind having another one. It seems as though our friendship just got a bit more complicated, because we obviously have feelings for each other and you are, if I may say so, a fantastic kisser." I smiled.

"Well… Draco…" I muttered. "I do like you. I like you a lot. But—""Shhh. Babe—can I call you babe? Don't ruin this for me right now. I know it's complicated. But it already is so let us just enjoy this moment, kay? Now let me have that letter." He smiled again. I couldn't help but smile back, and I handed him the scroll that I had been hiding behind my back. Before he opened it, though, he sat further back in the cushions on the couch, uncrossed his legs, and opened his arms for me to sit on his lap. I smiled and, shyly, I curled up in a ball on his lap.

Draco unfurled the scroll so that we could both see it. We leant in, for the handwriting was small, and we squinted our eyes to read together.

**Dear Draco,**

**I know about your secret love affair with the muggle born. I must warn you that, though you have done a fairly decent job of keeping your relationship a secret for the past few months, if you continue on, it is inevitable that both your parents, the rest of the school and Wizarding World, and the Dark Lord will find out about it. For now, your secret is safe with me, because I am assuming that you will heed my instructions and never see her again. If I see that you are still seeing each other after tonight, I will take precautions to keep others from finding out about you. Those precautions might be fatal to the girl or to you. Watch out.**

**Anonymous**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The next morning, I lay awake in my dormitory, never having fallen asleep. It wasn't until about 7:00 in the morning that there was any sort of movement, when the other boys in the room actually woke up. I shut my eyes so as not to be disturbed, and heard Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini moving around without a word. I didn't open my eyes until I was positive that they had all left the dormitory for breakfast. I turned and lay on my back again, and sighed to the ceiling.

_Shit_, I thought. _Shit shit shit._

I had spent the past 6 hours attempting to figure out who it was who had sent that letter, who it was that had seen me and Hermione together. I had dissected the letter, taken clues from everything I could, and so far I had deduced several things.

For one, I knew that whoever it was was involved in the dark arts: I knew this because they referred to You-Know-Who as "The Dark Lord," something that only Slytherins and Death Eaters did.

I also knew it was a male, most likely an adult or older student: I knew this because of the handwriting.

I also knew that this person knew my parents, or at least knew enough about them to be aware of what their reaction to my acquaintance with Hermione would be: I knew this because they mentioned them. That's obvious.

Something else I had deduced, however, only recently, was that this person was genuinely worried for mine and Hermione's well being. Or else he would never have bothered to send the letter, right? Also, something that surprised me, was the fact that he called Hermione the "muggle born," not a "mudblood," which is what any Slytherin or Death Eater would have called her.

After coming to all of these separate conclusions, I realized that there was not a single person in existence that had all of these traits. So I was stumped.

After reviewing every single assumption that I had made in the past 6 hours for the millionth time that morning, I sighed once again, threw my green satin bedclothes off of me, and rolled off of bed to get ready as quick as I could so I could head down to breakfast.

"Good morning, Draco, would you like some coffee?" I turned my head and saw Pansy Parkinson with two mugs and a pitcher of coffee sitting at one end of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. I shook my head; walked straight passed her, and chose to sit down several feet away between Montague and Warrington from the Slytherin Quidditch team. I wordlessly filled my plate with fried potatoes and eggs while Warrington handed me a mug and filled it with coffee.

"Thanks," I murmured, and dug in without another word.

I glanced around the Great Hall. I saw Dumbledore speaking with McGonagall, and that Grubbly-Plank woman talking to the Astronomy teacher. I remembered that the oaf, Hagrid, was absent from Hogwarts and would be for the next few weeks at the least. My father had told me some time into the summer holidays that when Macnair had gone to visit the giants and convince them to join You-Know-Who's "cause," the gurg of the giants had told him and Yaxley that Hagrid was there with Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons. I half hoped that his absence was caused by disappearance or death, as the miserable fool was one of the worst things about Hogwarts in my opinion, but I also knew how much Hermione cared for the half-giant, so for her sake, I hoped that he was just taking a really long route back to Hogwarts.

As my train of thought turned back to Hermione yet again (it seemed to be doing that a lot lately), I inconspicuously glanced towards the Gryffindor table in search of her. She was in conversation with Potter and three of the Weasleys; the twins and Ron. She was so beautiful.

I turned back to my breakfast and thought of our kiss from last night. It had been possibly the greatest moment of my life when we had finally given into the feelings that I knew now we had both been harboring since last year. It sort of ruined the moment when we discovered that somebody knew about us and that we were most likely in danger. I shook my head slightly and frowned, then attempted to get my mind off of the matter by talking Quidditch with my fellow teammates.

"Montague, when are you holding tryouts? We need beaters." I said, turning to Montague, who had been attacking his omlette with an angered expression on his face. He straightened up and smirked at me.

"This Saturday night. Got any ideas who might make the cut?" He looked around the table as if looking for people with a typical beater's build.

"I've no idea. As long as they can hit a ball with a bat and have good aim, I don't give a shit who it is." I looked at Montague expectantly, as he was still assessing all the members of Slytherin House.

"What about your friends, Crabbe and Goyle?" he asked, and I followed his appraising line of sight; undoubtedly, he was considering the two baboons that followed me around everywhere. "They're huge."

"They could work," I said, keeping it short. I wasn't sure how I felt about the two joining me in Quidditch practice as well; that was the only place I could get away from them. As long as they didn't bring Parkinson along with them, I guessed, there wouldn't be much of a problem. I glanced back at them and nodded, Montague's questioning glance upon me now. "Yeah, they would do the job pretty well actually."

"Then that's settled," Montague said triumphantly. "We'll just go ahead and have practice on Saturday night then, try them out. We can hold tryouts later if they suck." I nodded and was silent.

Not too long afterword did Professor Snape walk up to us, schedules in hand for all the Slytherins. As he was making corrections to Warrington's schedule next to me, I caught sight of his handwriting. I choked on the coffee I was finishing, and, eyes bulging out of their sockets, I looked up into Snape's unwavering eyes, which were now trained on me.

His handwriting was an exact match to the letter I had received last night.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

In Potions, we were asked to create a Draught of Peace, a potion that Snape said would possibly come up on our O.W.L.'s. I was uncharacteristically quiet during the double class period, and only let out one or two snarky comments towards Potter and the other idiotic Gryffindors, and of course laughed mirthlessly whenever Snape insulted them. But when it came time to leave the class for Charms, I decided to stay behind and speak with my "favorite professor."

Snape knew what I was up to, and confronted me before I had the chance to say anything.

"I take it you got my letter, then, Draco?" he asked quietly, his back turned towards me as he was leaning over the potion samples on his desk.

"Yeah I did, and so much for the anonymity, huh?" I said, glaring at his back. "Why don't you just stay out of my life, Snape? I can handle myself."

Snape turned around sharply, his long greasy hair whipping around his face, which bore a frighteningly angered expression. He spoke very bluntly, emphasizing each word as he spit them, his eyes glaring and fists clenched at his sides.

"Did you ever stop to think, Draco," he hissed my name, and I cringed. "That I left the note anonymous for the sole purpose of Ms. Granger's naivety? Her ignorance is the only thing that mattered, I could care less about what you know, or else don't you think I would have used different handwriting? Or perhaps, made it less obvious of my true identity? I left so many clues for you, Draco, that I'm surprised it took you this long to discover that it was I who realized the extremities of your ruthless behavior, of this relationship that simply proves your ignorance of the world around you, of your immaturity, of your carelessness. You have been imprudent."

"You can't talk to me like—"

"I will talk to you in whichever ways I wish to, Mr. Malfoy. You are lacking in judgment, your actions have been senseless and unwise. And as for the girl, well, her reasoning has obviously been clouded by lust. It would be prudent of you to keep the information of my identity disclosed, never tell her that I wrote the letter, and never speak to her again. No more nighttime wanderings. Once the Dark Lord has vanished, and it is safe for relationships such as this one, you can return to Ms. Granger's company. Although by then, I believe it will have been too late. Ronald Weasley's time in her love life is fast approaching."

I opened my mouth to respond, my eyebrows angled to show my displeasure with Snape's assumptions that I could just choose not to talk to her after last night, but found my retort dying in my throat. My expression softened as I realized the severity of this entire situation, and I closed my mouth, staggered backwards into a chair, and put my face in my hands. I heard Snape walk towards me, and I felt his hand rest on my shoulder. I looked up at him.

"Look," he said, with a softer, kinder look on his aged face. "I know how you feel. I too struggled with basically the same situation as a student here at Hogwarts. I still fight with the outcomes of it every day of my life."

"He'll…." I had to work against the lump in my throat. "He'll kill her."

Snape was quiet.

"I'm going to tell you something, Draco. Now that I have seen that your heart has warmed and you can see the merits of leaving the Dark Lord's side, I can finally disclose information to you that I knew I would get the chance of disclosing since you first stepped foot in Hogwarts."

I looked up into Snape's black eyes, curious, straining for information.

Snape continued. "I am not a spy for the Dark Lord," he said. "I am a spy for Professor Dumbledore."

The gravity of what Snape had just said sunk in, and my confusion and crave for knowledge turned rapidly into anger. I stood up and screamed at him. "You've been lying to us this whole time?" I yelled. "To my father, to my mother and my aunt and to… to him? To me! How could you, Snape?" I sucked in a breath and my eyes widened. "He'll kill you, Snape. You obviously don't get that. He will kill you."

Snape looked at me with a bored expression on his face. He stood up as well, walked over to his desk, and sat down upon it. He crossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees, looking at me expectantly. I began to pace the room, mumbling incoherently. I was struggling between two sides of this new information. Half of me, the half that was calming down rapidly, wanted to bash Snape's brains in for lying to all of the Death Eaters for such a long time, for betraying his metaphorical family. But the other half of me, the more reasonable half, the dominant half, was slowly realizing what this might mean for me.

I had never belonged in the Death Eater clan. Part of me had always wished that there was some way out of that life, though I always knew it would be inevitable. But with what Snape had just told me, I started to realize the opportunities that I had. I could become a spy. I could learn from Snape how to be convincing, and I could be on the good side. With Hermione.

It would be difficult, I thought, as I paced the dungeon hastily. It would take a lot of effort on my part, and I would be betraying my parents. But would I really be? If You-Know-Who was destroyed, my parents would no longer have any obligation to remain loyal to those with a Dark Mark on their wrists. They would finally be free.

But they could never know about me being a spy (my heart flipped at the thought of the word). They would have to remain unaware. But, I reasoned with myself, it would save them in the end.

I turned towards Professor Snape again.

"Okay," I said calmly, taking a deep breath and staring intently into Snape's awaiting gaze. "I want to be a spy too. Tell me what I have to do."

Snape looked at me for a long time. Then he nodded slowly, stood up from his spot on his desk, and walked towards, reaching for my shoulder to turn me towards the dungeon door. He walked me out of his classroom saying, "It's time to visit the headmaster."


End file.
